


Faithfully

by Vodkassassin



Category: Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angor Rot redemption arc, Chest Binding, Foster Care, Hurt Jim, I know I’m sorry but Barb is dead in this, James takes the protection of the trolls very seriously, Jim Has Issues, Minor Injuries, Serious Injuries, Trans Jim Lake Jr., Trans Male Character, Troll Magic, heatstroke, james has trust issues, orphan Jim Lake Jr., our boy fights supernatural beings in a magical suit of armor ofc he’s gonna get banged up, though he’s quicker to trust a troll than a human, trollhunter au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:49:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24022381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vodkassassin/pseuds/Vodkassassin
Summary: Bits and pieces of what I’ve written for my Trollhunter AU, where Barbara Lake was an army doctor who died overseas, leaving her son in the hands of the state.Despite everything, James Lake Jr. still finds his way to Arcadia and, more importantly, to his trolls. His purpose.
Relationships: Blinkous "Blinky" Galadrigal & Jim Lake Jr., Jim Lake Jr. & Aarghaumont, Jim Lake Jr. & Angor Rot, Jim Lake Jr. & Walter Strickler | Stricklander, Jim Lake Jr. & trolls, Jim lake Jr. & Draal
Comments: 8
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James takes on an enemy too strong for him to match. Luckily, Mr. Strickler is there to help him with the fallout. Not so luckily, James is out on bed rest to heal, and a moored Trollhunter is an unhappy Trollhunter.

He woke to darkness, and panicked for just the barest of moments.  


He took in a slow, measured breath, and tried his best to focus. It was harder than it should be. 

“...go? My charge is deathly afraid of hospitals.” 

As they were wont to do while he slowly entered the beginnings of consciousness, James’ eyelids barely fluttered. The one sign that he was more aware than previously was the minute shift in his breathing, and a slight twitch of his brow. The last wasn’t due to wakefulness, however, but the familiar tenor of the voice that had been speaking as he woke. It was smooth and cultured, almost as if it should have an European accent, but didn’t. 

His consciousness settled, and a dully pulsating ache made itself known at the back of his skull. James’ slowly emerging focus shifted first to that, and then onward as more aches and pains made themselves known all along his body. The pads of his hands especially carried a sharp, stinging throb that made it difficult to turn his attention outward. A bone deep tiredness plagued his legs, reminding himself of that one hike up in Oregon, three years ago. 

The voice was still speaking in the muffled background, and it was joined by another occasionally, like a conversation. It probably was one. James tried to bring his attention to the forefront, instead of trapped within his own body and its pain, and managed to catch the tail end of it. 

“Am I permitted to stay here with him?” The cultured voice asked. 

The owner was on the tip of James’ tongue, but he couldn’t name it yet. His mind was fuzzy at the edges. 

“Of course,” the second voice said, utterly unfamiliar to him, and it made for a point of focus to try and pull himself out of the last vestiges of unconsciousness. “I’ll just be a moment.”

He strained his ears in an attempt to hear more, but they seemed to be finished, because all he heard next was a sharp, repeated clacking sound, followed by a deeper, resounding click. It took him a few moments of musing, but James finally was able to realize they had been footsteps, and the door of whatever room he was in closing as the unknown person left. 

His mind brightened, as if having an epiphany. It caused the aching in his skull to spike, now encompassing the front as well as the base, but James powered through it to focus on the thought. The sore muscles of his abdomen spasmed as they tensed, in an aborted movement to try and sit up. 

_ Where was he?  _

More sounds came from his left, a moment later. A soft shuffling of what sounded like fabric, and the creak of a chair that might be plastic. It was right at the side of him. Belatedly, James opened his eyes to look. 

His brows furrowed as much as they could, and when he spoke, his voice came out much quieter than he’d been anticipating, and rough. Like he had a cold. 

“Mr. Strickler?”

The changeling sitting in the chair beside his bed- white sheets, white walls, obviously a hospital room- heaved a sigh and peered down his nose at him. His arms were crossed, as were his legs. He looked every bit the exasperated high school teacher. 

“How many times must I tell you to call me Walt?” The man asked. It didn’t sound like a question any more, but more of a statement that he had to get out of the way before any conversation could happen, like “hello”, or “how are you?”

“You simply  _ must _ be more careful, Atlas,” Mr. Strickler admonished him as he moved forward to help the struggling Trollhunter sit up. He fluffed up a pillow and slipped it behind James’ back for more support. “One day, I won’t be here to persuade the humans to release you, and you will have to face the system. It isn’t as if those trolls of yours could provide insurance papers and identification, could they?”

James blinked up at him, settling back uneasily against the pillows. He cast the room a quick surveying glance, and then returned his gaze back to the changeling. Who seemed to be waiting for an actual reply. 

Oh. He’d thought that question had been as redundant as the first one. What was he supposed to say?

“What happened?” James tried, answering a question with a question. 

Mr. Strickler appeared unamused, but provided anyway, “You were in a fight, as you tend to be anytime you venture to the surface these days. It appears your armor failed to manifest in time to save you from particularly grievous injury. Either you need to expend more effort toward your summoning time with the amulet, or you were caught by surprise. In which case, I would still recommend more training in calling forth the armor.”

The changeling leaned forward in his seat, pinning the weary but attentive teenager with a sharp look. “You need to be better than this, Atlas. As the name suggests, you have an entire world resting on your shoulders… what do you think will happen to it should you fall? And due to something so trivial as slow reflexes?”

James lowered his gaze to his hands. They were bandaged, and sitting limply in his lap with nothing to do. No purpose, while out of commission like this. They would take time to heal, as would the rest of him. 

“I know,” he replied, quietly. 

Mr. Strickler heaved a low sigh, and settled back in his seat. He let his arms drop to his sides, and his elbows went to rest on the arms of the plastic and metal hospital chair. It looked uncomfortable, but as usual, Mr. Strickler made it appear as if he were at complete ease. 

They were both silent for a moment, James staring at his lap while Mr. Strickler did whatever he was doing. Probably staring at James, in either disappointment or annoyance. Might be both. There could even be that faint glimmer of pity in those eyes, too. He’d seen it there before. James didn’t want to see it now. He kept his gaze angled downward, at the crisp white bandages, neatly enfolding his hands. 

Another sigh came from his left, and a larger, more weathered hand entered his field of vision. It reached forward to lift his chin, and James found himself meeting eyes with his… mentor, friend? Enemy? What even was Mr. Strickler, to him?

An enigma, for sure. 

“You ran afoul of some horrid hooligans in the streets, you understand? You shouldn’t have been out this late at night, but circumstances called for it, so there wasn’t much to be done. Wrong place, wrong time. However, you are desperately fearful of hospitals, and would like to be released as promptly as is possible. Can you do that?”

He was asking if James could keep up an act convincing enough to fool the hospital staff. The teenager nodded his head slowly, chin still within the older male’s light grasp. 

He did need to get out of here as quickly as he could manage it without it looking suspicious. Humans would worry themselves and everyone else silly over a teenager seemingly running from the system, which was exactly what James would appear as (and also kind of the truth, when one thought about it) if it weren’t for evidence to the contrary that Mr. Strickler had apparently come forth with. He owed the man. Again. 

It would certainly make his job all the more difficult, perhaps even impossible, with the human authorities breathing down his neck. And then where would the Trolls be, without their Trollhunter? He had patrols and duties to perform, he couldn’t attend high school and have a life topside while doing that. Especially  _ now _ , with all the troubles in the air, and darker enemies approaching from seemingly every corner, with increasing consistency. 

James felt a shiver wrack up his arms, and down his spine. He reached behind himself and grabbed one of the pillows, hugging it to himself loosely, and leaned back further into the other with a deep, controlled breath. 

“Thank you,” he murmured. 

Mr. Strickler cast him a studying look, retracting his hand from James’ chin. It was a look of examination, backed up with all sorts of other variables that James could never hope to decipher, least of all right this moment. 

“Of course, young Atlas,” the changeling replied in a voice just as quiet. 

They didn’t speak again until the doctor returned. 

  
  


James curled in on himself, trapping the pillow tighter in his arms. His limbs tingled as if asleep, and the wounds in his hands stung beneath the bandages, but he ignored it all and instead buried his face into the fabric. 

“I want to go home,” he pleaded. 

“I know, Miss Lake,” the doctor said kindly, “but we really would rather you stay for at least a night of observa-“

“ _ Mr _ . Lake,” Mr. Strickler’s stern voice cut in with a sharp reprimand. It nearly made James go still, but then he remembered he had an image to communicate, and continued to tremble ever so slightly. 

“... Oh, yes, of course,” the doctor replied, sounded faintly chastised. 

If James weren’t so busy being ‘deathly afraid of hospitals’, he would have smiled at the occurrence. Both at Mr. Strickler’s support, and at the way he seemed to be able to admonish  _ anyone _ . It was refreshing and comforting to know that it wasn’t just James. 

“But really,” the doctor continued, speaking to them both now, “we’d like keep you here for overnight observation, just to make sure there aren’t any additional complications, or something that we missed. It would be better safe than sorry, right?”

“I just want to go  _ home _ ,” James immediately repeated, projecting the urgent need that he felt to return to Trollmarket as soon as physically possible, and make sure that everything was alright, and that everyone was safe, and that nothing had happened in his absence. 

It was something he felt every time he came topside, but this time he’d been gone for over twenty-four hours, and James knew more than anyone that  _ a lot _ could happen in twenty-four hours. 

“Please,” he added, making his voice wobble just a little for good measure. 

He clutched the pillow tighter and tried to imagine himself anywhere but in this building. A hand came to rest on his shoulder, providing silent support. Mr. Strickler. 

A sigh came from above him, and he peeked up hesitantly to see the doctor reluctantly scribbling something on her clipboard. 

“Well,” she finally said, glancing up at the both of them, “there doesn’t  _ seem _ to be anything life threatening at the moment, and I can’t legally hold you here against your wishes… but, I’d like to impress the need onto you, that you  _ have _ to be very careful with yourself for at least the next week, if not two. You have to let your body  _ rest _ in order for it to heal, and you’ve had it banged up pretty bad tonight.”

She set the clipboard aside, slipped the pen into the pocket of her white coat, and stared James down. The teenager gazed back solemnly. 

“I need you to promise me that you will take it easy until your injuries are healed. That means no strenuous activity for the next week or two. Copious amounts of rest. Lots of liquids and a healthy, timely diet will go far to help, of course, but the biggest thing is  _ rest _ . Can you do that for me?”

James’ jaw locked. He turned his hands over and back in his lap, nearly wincing as Mr. Strickler’s grip on his shoulder tightened against a bruise underneath it. He sucked in a fortifying breath, and thought. 

How could he do his  _ duty _ from a  _ bed _ ? He was the  _ Trollhunter _ , he had a civilization to protect and prioritize over himself, he couldn’t spend his time  _ napping _ and sleeping the day away when the next big bad could come barreling into the homes of his Trolls at a moment notice- or even  _ without  _ any notice! James  _ couldn’t  _ rest. There was no time. There were too many things to  _ do _ !

His shoulder cramped, the one beneath Mr. Strickler’s hand. James lifted his head and glanced up to meet the older man’s gaze. The high school teacher within the changeling seemed to be on at full blast, because James had never in his life felt more like an errant student than right at this moment. There was a line of steel in that man’s brow, and right now it was pinning James down with a tremendous weight. Mr. Strickler narrowed his eyes, and a word passed over their glance. James felt a sigh well in his throat. 

He turned back to the doctor, who was eyeing him expectedly. She, too, had a Look on her face, but it paled in comparison to Mr. Strickler’s raised eyebrow. 

“Yes,” James finally admitted, as if it were something to be ashamed of. 

And maybe it was, because it was most certainly a lie. By the sharp glance he got from Mr. Strickler, the man had caught it, too. 

Jams sensed hard times coming for him and his duties, and it had very little to do with the pain his wounds provided him. 

  
  


“He’s not to train for at least two weeks,” the changeling informed them, and James immediately found himself sitting up again. 

“No,” he corrected, voice scratching roughly against the inside of his throat. “The doctor said a week.  _ One _ .” 

Everyone in the room knew that, if he were to have his way, James would be out patrolling this very second, preferably  _ alone _ and weighted down by the Armor, injuries be damned. 

Which was why when the present Trolls all crossed their arms and stuck him with admonishing stares, James was unsurprised. Disappointed, yes, but wholly unsurprised. 

“She  _ did _ , though,” he told them, feeling like he was being ganged up on. “She only said  _ one _ week.”

“Ah, ah,” Mr. Strickler ( _ definitely  _ James’ enemy, who was anyone kidding) held up a finger and gave it a wag, as if James were an unruly child. “She said  _ preferably two _ weeks.”

“Which means,” Blinkous added, and James felt his heart begin to sink, “that you will be holding off on training for the entire fortnight, as suggested, Master James. The human healer was right in her assessment- you need rest, to heal from your wounds.” 

James opened his mouth to retort, but Angor Rot beat him to it, deep voice reverberating throughout the room despite its low volume, as it always did. 

“How will you be able to protect anyone if you can barely  _ stand _ , Trollhunter?”

Arrrgh gave an affirming grunt, big round eyes reminding James of a puppy. 

And as always, the enemy-turned-ally knew exactly what to say to make James listen. 

That didn’t mean the teenager had to be happy about it, though. 

He stared at them, cursing at the heaviness already plaguing his eyelids.

“Please,” the assassin murmured, reaching forward to press warm living stone to James’ brow, while Blinkous went about lying him flat against the mattress. “Be healed sooner, rather than later. Not all of us are useless in a fight, and Trollmarket will still be here when you awaken.”

A rather optimistic view, from a troll so dark. If only James could believe it. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blinkous and Aarghaumont decide to take their first look at the new Trollhunter the amulet has chosen for them.

Beyond the shock of the amulet choosing a  _ human _ , of all things, as the next Trollhunter- Blinky still wasn’t certain that he wasn’t dreaming- the more that he watched the young homo sapien, the more he realized, well, the young man was just  _ strange _ . Even for human standards, or what little Blinky knew of them. 

It had been difficult, initially, to track down the boy after their first glimpse of him in the canal, seeing as that had been when it was still morning, and he and Arrrghaumont had needed to wait until it was dark again to search for their new and errant charge. 

_ And he was a charge _ .  _ Even considering the gap between trolls and humans, this boy was still barely a child.  _

His scent wasn’t one easily forgotten, and therefore not too hard to follow. At least, not too hard to follow through the streets and shadows of Arcadia, all the way to its outskirts. 

The boy smelled of nature. Not the dust and earthy scents Blinky and other trolls would be so comfortable with, but of the surface and it’s playful winds and tall reaching trees and steep cliff-sides and wandering streams. It was unfamiliar enough that when they reached the edges of the woods that surrounded the town, just as the sun was making friendly with the edge of the horizon, the new Trollhunter’s own trail was lost amongst the pines and evening wind. 

  
  
  


This was perhaps the strangest thing about the boy Blinky had noticed insofar. From what he’d collected, humans were as social creatures as trolls were, if not more so. They tended to live in units, and those units intermingled day in and day out, and they all cultivated such strong bonds between even their distant associates that it could put any troll friendship to shame. 

This boy, however, was alone. 

He’d been alone this morning at the canal, and he was alone now, carefully tip-toeing his way through the dense undergrowth and toward the steep, abrupt drop off of the cliff’s side that looked over not only the entire north side of Arcadia, but most of the woodland that covered its surrounding area. 

Blinky knew that if he were to close his eyes and cover his ears, and attempt to rely only on his sense of smell and presence, this human boy would disappear completely from him. He blended into the forest around them like he belonged to it.

Blinky wondered how he would fare when brought underground and away from the open skies he was gazing up at with such rapture right now. 

He shared a dubious glance with Arrrgh, before slowly slinking forward. 

Only one way to find out. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James doesn’t have any friends amongst the humans. With no one to call for convenient umbrellas, the Trollmarket refugees take to the deeper levels in hopes of escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan to add more to this one later

“I think there is something wrong with the Trollhunter,” said Angor Rot, when he finally found himself unable to leave it unspoken for any longer. 

Blinkous glanced over at where the assassin had sidled up to him, pausing in directing a wayward group of refugees toward the right tunnel. 

“What makes you say that?” The newly elected leader questioned warily, the note of defensiveness that all Trolls took up whenever interacting with him coloring his words no matter how hard the scholar tried not to let it. 

It wasn’t necessarily their faults, but it _was_ ultimately annoying that, even after so much had happened and Angor had kept his word, they still treat him with such suspicion. 

No matter, though. Angor Rot was patient, if nothing else. And he did want this. 

“See for yourself,” he gestured a hand at the armored figure ahead of them. 

James Lake had rarely paused for a moment since Gunmar had taken Trollmarket from them, aiding first in the evacuation and then in leading the refugees to a safer place. Even when the progression of Trolls took pause to rest, he still patrolled their perimeter, keeping a sharp lookout for any stragglers, occasionally scouting ahead, and generally keeping busy. 

It was a few levels higher than they were now that James had wordlessly donned the helmet of his armor, and he had yet to remove it. Seeing his face covered in the familiar headpiece made the situation all the more serious for even the most rambunctious of Trolls within their groups. 

Angor was certain James hadn’t meant to cause alarm in any such way, but it was visibly difficult for the younglings to stay calm when the familiar and welcoming visage of their protector, which they’d grown so used to always being able to see even in battle, was covered. 

If this had been the only issue, however, the assassin would have not found need in bringing it to Blinkous’ attention. Surely the scholar had already noticed the helmet- Blinkous was notably observant, despite his eccentricities. 

“Hm,” Blinkous said, and Angor Rot knew then that he’d seen it too. 

The assassin glanced back at the Trollhunter, watching the teenage human round up a few wandering younglings and herd them quietly back to their caretakers. One of the smaller ones tackled the young man’s leg in a quick hug. Typically, James was unshakable to even the most rowdy pile of troll children, and could withstand more than his diminutive stature belied. Now, however, the youngling’s affectionate attack caused the Trollhunter to stumble back a step. 

This gained a few frowns, and some sharp glances, though the children didn't seem to notice much. The youngling gave a laugh as James recovered from his misstep and patted her on the head, sending her scurrying back to her parent. 

Angor Rot narrowed his eyes, watching the Trollhunter closely as he begged off the attention of a few other of the trolls and made his way back to the forefront to begin another patrol of their newest immediate surroundings. He heard Blinkous make another considering and contemplating hum beside him as they both watched the young teen stumble again, holding himself up against the wall of the cavern for a brief second before straightening up and continuing on as if nothing had happened. His steps seemed less sure of themselves than they normally tend to be. 

“That is strange,” Blinkous murmured, and Angor gave a scoff. 

“It seems your student begs checking up on, hmm?” the assassin retorted. 

The scholarly troll cast him a faintly annoyed glance before turning to share a parting word with Arrgh. The gentle Krubera nodded his head and heaved himself forth to look out among the resting refugees in Blinkous’ stead, motioning for Draal to accompany him. 

The scholar then straightened up and began to move toward the self-isolated Trollhunter. Angor said nothing more, but made sure to keep close behind him. 

James was sitting on an outcropping boulder when they approached him. His legs were crossed, and his entire posture was slumped forward. His elbows rested on his knees and he looked for the whole world to be asleep. 

“Master James?” Blinkous announced them, hopping up the rocks to crouch beside the slightly curled form. Angor stayed on the lower rocks, gazing up at the two of them with watchful eyes. 

He felt like he was waiting for something. He didn’t know what, but it was better safe than sorry. He’d had his instincts even while he’d been missing his soul, and they’d never led him wrong before. 

The armored head lifted itself up and turned to gaze at them. It canted slightly to the side when James saw Blinkous hovering over him. 

“Blinky… is there something wrong?”

Angor blinked, and then shared a sharp look with Blinkous. The Trollhunter’s breath was heavy, as if he were weighed down by some invisible mountain aside from the bulk of the Armor. Frankly, the child sounded like he was about to pass out. 

“I would, in fact, like to ask that of _you_ , Master James,” Blinkous deferred quietly, leaning forward to try and catch the teen’s eyes through his visor. 

Whatever he saw there made him straighten up, and all four arms crossed across his chest. There was a great frown at his brow. 

“I’m fine,” James was saying, but now neither of them were listening, because Blinkous interrupted with his own words, and Angor was watching the entire thing like it was a tennis match, form taught like a bowstring and waiting. 

“You are not!” The scholar said. “Master James, why _are_ you wearing the helmet?” 

James paused. He shifted precariously to the side for one moment, and then struggled to sit upright. His arms shook with the effort. 

“Am I,” he responded, voice light and airy and entirely too concerning, “not… allowed to?”

“What?” Blinkous asked. “No, I mean, of course you _are_ , but- “

“What your friend is trying to say,” Angor cut in, because like this they would be getting nowhere, “is that you never wear the helmet, even during most battles. Which makes it highly suspicious that you’re wearing it now, continuously. Are you hiding something from us, Trollhunter? Perhaps, some sort of injury?”

“What?” Both James and Blinkous asked at once. They looked at each other, and James spoke before Blinkous could begin the outraged lecture that was visibly coming to the forefront. 

“No! I’m not,” James shook his head, and then stopped rather abruptly, before moving to haul himself to his feet. “I’m not injured. I promise. Here, I’ll- “

He went to remove the helmet now that he was standing. The second he lifted his hands, his footing shifted precariously, and he toppled off the boulder with a breathless and muted noise of surprise. 

Angor Rot was moving even before James had fully stood up, and was there to catch him before he fell too far to reach. The teen landed in his arms with a sound of impact, the breath being forcefully displaced from his lungs. Angor carefully jumped down to the solid ground with Blinkous scrambling down the rocks behind them, and crouched down to lay the immobile Trollhunter on the flat stone floor. 

Noises of shock and worry were arising from the resting refugees, who’d seen everything even if they hadn’t been within hearing distance. Angor ignored them, leaving them to Arrgh and the others to calm as he turned his attention to the listless Trollhunter before him. 

Though they were on safe ground once more, now that the air had been knocked out of him, James seemed to be having momentous trouble in getting it _back_. 

The teenager curled in on himself convulsively, sucking in oxygen that didn’t seem to be going anywhere no matter how much he took. He pressed forward and leaned his head into Angor Rot, and gave a small, wordless cry. 

Angor felt his gut churn anxiously. 

Blinkous made it to them just in time to watch the light show of the Armor dissipating back to the amulet, and the first thing Angor noticed about James was that his clothes were _soaked_ down to the skin beneath it. He allowed a frown to come over his face, reaching forward to pull the front of the teen’s hooded jacket apart, only to be confused at the fact that the shirt beneath it seemed to be _more_ damp than the jacket itself. 

“He is… dripping,” Angor reported, looking up to cast the scholarly troll beside him a look in askance. If anyone would know what was going on, it would be Blinkous, who had done in depth research on the anatomy of humans after realizing his new student was _one of them._

“It’s sweat,” Blinkous informed him, unfortunately sounding just as baffled. “Though, I’m quite sure there isn’t supposed to be this much of it.”

“ _Why_ ,” Angor asked, but it was forgotten when Healer Angrboda shoved her way forth, through the slowly and hesitantly forming crowd of trolls around them. 

“What’s happened,” she demanded promptly, falling to her knees beside them and their soaked ward. 

She dug in the pocket of her apron and brought out the metal box of human medical supplies she carried with her, letting it crash to the ground by her foot carelessly as she leaned forward to examine the Trollhunter. 

Blinkous opened his mouth to relay their strange findings to her, but before he could utter a word, James lunged upward with a stilted yell and pushed through them to a clear area of ground near the boulders he’d just fallen from, throwing himself onto them. His head hung low, body trembling horribly. Angor and the others jumped up to go to him as he began vomiting into the rocks with loud and terrible retching sounds. 

Angor Rot reached his side and helped keep James from just falling bonelessly into his own sick. With a worried anger ticking at his brow, the assassin held the teenager up against his chest and set another soothing hand of cool living stone along the boy’s back. Touch always seemed to help center James, and Angor hoped it helped even more now. 

James choked, bile dripping from his mouth. He gagged on nothing and his body wouldn’t stop its shaking.

A pained whine escaped the teen, scratchy and dry sounding. Angor winced, gazing down at him with wide eyes as the gathered trolls around them exclaimed in worry and fear. It sounded painful. What was going on? 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trollhunter is out of commission for a good while this time. The trolls have a plan. James is vehemently against it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one that I plan to add to at a later date

James stared at him. He wasn’t sure whether what he was feeling was shock or not, but it seemed to fit the situation well enough. 

Finally, he remembered to speak, “No.”

This apparently wasn’t the right answer, because it was rewarded with several looks ranging from exasperation to faint disappointment. 

“Master James,” Blinkous admonished, all arms crossed. “This will be good for you! Please, won’t you just give it a thought?”

“No?” James frowned at him, and if it sounded more like a question, that was because he was wondering why this was even up for debate. 

“Oh, come now, Atlas,” Mr. Strickler said, looking almost amused. “Think of all the times that having human allies could have even been, well, _beneficial_ for you!”

“ _When_ ,” James asked, aghast. 

He was only stared at, again, and he slumped back against the pillow with a sigh. He thought that they didn’t _want_ humans to find out about Trolls. Wouldn’t this inevitably lead to that? He couldn’t have human friends. They’d get in the way, and distract him from the priority, which would always be the trolls- which the humans _couldn’t_ find out about. 

“Here is the situation, Trollhunter,” Angor Rot began, and that stung a little, didn’t it, because if Angor Rot wasn’t on James’ side, then who was? “It will take up to a month for your leg to heal, and within that time, we will be rebuilding. As of right now there is nothing for you to protect. Therefore it is only right that you spend this month in the surface world.”

James’ spine straightened. He glared at all four of them. 

“James,” Arrgh grunted, big doe eyes on at full blast. “Please?”

The Trollhunter set his jaw. 

“It would be a prime time to catch up on all the sunlight you have missed out on, all this time,” Mr. Strickler spread his hands out as he spoke, a pleasant smile on his face. The _scheming_ smile. “Some rest and recuperation will do you some good! And what better time to further your education than now?”

“Preferably never,” James breathed out, pinning the high school teacher with a hard stare. He’d really embraced his role, hadn’t he? 

“Mr. Lake,” Mr. Strickler raised an eyebrow. James huffed. “Surely we aren’t such enemies that you can’t stand to be within my presence?”

“I am _not_ your-“ James cut himself off. 

_Son_ , he continued in the privacy of his own mind, and withheld a shudder. He was _no one’s_ son. He hadn’t been anyone’s son in a long time.

There was a short silence, before the boy twisted on the mattress, flinging his legs over the side of the bed and then wincing when his bad leg landed too heavily on the stone floor. 

“I’m sorry, Master James,” Blinkous was wringing all four hands anxiously, and looked the picture of a worried mother. “But, well, we _have_ spoken of this already, multiples times and we… well, it’s been decided that this is the best course of action.”

“ _It’s been decided_ ,” James echoed with a harsh scowl, pushing himself up from the bed and making a grab for the crutches, hauling himself forward and nearly lunging across the room. 

Arrrgh and Blinkous made to go after him, expression twisted in concern, but Angor held out his arm to stop them. The three trolls and one changeling watched quietly as the teenager exited the room and let the door shut behind him with a slam. 

“Let him go,” the assassin murmured. Behind him, Strickler crossed his arms with a sigh. 

**Author's Note:**

> Not in chronological order whatsoever. This is basically a collection of scenes I’ve written, all within the same universe. One day I’ll eventually fill in the blanks and reorganize this into an actual functioning fic, but right now my plate is full.


End file.
